Shiver. Cynthia Cooke
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on the shoulder, comforting her after the trauma she’d been forced to endure. Somehow, he had to make the captain see he was on to something, that he was right about her. “That woman knows a lot more about this case than she’s letting on.”
“Based on what?”
“My gut.”
“Your gut isn’t good enough, considering the circumstances.”
“It’s never been wrong before and you know it.”
“The victim has never been part of your family before.”
The image of Michelle lying on the dirty French Quarter sidewalk flashed through his mind, making his own fists clench. “That’s bull.”
“The truth is you’ve never been this unhinged before. You’ve always been Mr. Cool, Mr. Confident—hell, Mr. Cocky. Now you’re a loose cannon and I won’t have your emotions jeopardizing this case. Take your three days and spend the time with your family. Rest, relax, and when you come back, you can focus on the night stalker case and let Pat and his team handle this one with the FBI.”
Somehow he didn’t think “Ladies’ Man Pat” would do what it took to find Michelle’s killer. “I can see his charm is working wonders on my suspect as we speak. She’s all ready to let loose and spill everything she knows any minute now.” They both watched Pat through the glass. Though he was trying, Miss Morgan was sitting as stiff and tight-lipped as a pastor’s wife in a Bourbon Street strip club.
“You’ve been known to load on the charm yourself,” the captain grumbled.
Usually, Riley thought, but not when it came to her. That woman just drove the charm right out of him.
“Just stay clear from her. Got it?” The captain ordered on an exasperated sigh.
Riley nodded, but continued watching Devra out of the corner of his eye.
“By the way, your father has called three times. I’m going downstairs. You can use my office to call him back. Consider that an order.”
Riley swore under his breath as the captain slammed the door behind him. Sometimes it didn’t pay to have a powerful father. He wondered how much his forced leave had to do with his old man, then pushed the thought out of his head. Tony had had the same idea earlier and if it’d been anyone else, Riley would probably even agree. Anyone with a loss of this magnitude should take their three days, but the worst part was having his case ripped out from under him.
Surreptitiously, he watched Miss Morgan. Three days of mandatory leave—three days to get that woman to crack. He raked a hand through his hair. Three days to get the answers he needed for his brother, Mac, and his old man.
A lead weight dropped to the pit of his stomach as he picked up the phone and dialed the ranch. “Hey, LuAnn,” he said when his stepmom answered the phone. “How’s Dad?”
“Devastated like the rest of us, but he’ll be glad to hear from you. Hold on, hon, and I’ll get him for you.”
Riley waited, not sure what to expect from his dad and not able to take his eyes off the enigma of a woman sitting at his desk. He was going to make it his priority to find out everything about her that he could and flush out whatever she was hiding from him.
He watched Tony bring her a cup of water. She nodded, thanking him, a trace of a smile touching her face. As she sipped the water, a hint of moisture wet her seductive lips. She turned, her melting blue eyes meeting his through the glass. Awareness rushed through him, hot and thick, making him cringe.
He was going to take her down.
“Hey, Son.” His father’s voice sounded dull through the receiver.
Riley turned away from the glass. “Hey, Dad.”
“When you coming home?”
“Soon.”
“Good, ’cause we all need to be here right now to support your brother. He’s taking it real hard.”
Guilt slithered through him. “Yeah, I suppose he is.”
“He has a lot of unanswered questions. We’re hoping you can fill him in.”
“I don’t have a lot of answers right now. If I’d known what Michelle had been planning… I didn’t know she’d try to draw this guy out alone, Dad.”
“We know you didn’t, Son. No one blames you.”
Riley knew that, but he could still hear the quiet disappointment in his old man’s voice, disappointment that had been festering for eighteen years. And now he had Michelle to account for, too. A heavy weight pressed against his chest.
“Who knows what she was thinking?”
“She wanted to nail the SOB that had been cutting up women in the Quarter. Only she hadn’t been prepared for a new monster…a different monster. I’m going to find her killer, Dad. I promise,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
“I know you will, Son. I know you won’t let us down.”
No, not again I won’t.
Riley ground his teeth with frustration as he hung up the phone. He took a deep breath, steeling his emotions as he watched Miss Morgan talking with Pat and Tony. There she was, playing the demure little kitten again, but it wasn’t as convincing without her big blue eyes directed his way. Now he could easily see through her little game. Her shifty little glances kept giving her away.
He left the office and approached them. “Come on, Miss Morgan. I’ll take you home.”
“Why don’t you let me do that,” Pat said, rising. “You go home to your family.” He stood possessively over her, his chest puffing up like a peacock’s.
Made Riley want to spit. “That’s quite all right, Pat. Thanks for the concern and the offer.” He dropped the good-ole-boy smile and pierced him with a cold stare. “Miss Morgan and I have some unfinished business. I’m sure you understand.”
Pat held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.
Riley turned back to Devra. She was staring at him, her fear shining like a beacon in her luminous eyes. Yeah, she was good—he took her by the arm and led her away—but he was better.
DEVRA STARED OUT of the Expedition’s window, pushing loose tendrils of hair back into their clip. Everything in its place, her mother used to say. Thankfully, the detective hadn’t muttered a word since they left the station. As he stopped in front of her house, she hopped out of the car and all but ran toward her door. Dark storm clouds raced across the sky. Electricity sparked the hairs on the back of her neck. Either that, or it was the detective’s close proximity as he followed behind her.
“Mind if I come in for a minute?” he asked when she stopped to unlock the door.
She turned, looking up into his dark brown eyes. They looked…tormented. She pushed back the compassion rising within her. “I can’t imagine what else we have to say to each other.”
“I have something I’d like to say.”
She cringed at the plea in his voice, at the pain clearly etched in his eyes. She could feel his anguish. A part of her wanted to help him. But she couldn’t. To do that, she’d have to trust him with her secrets, and trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
She turned away from him and waited, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t leave. She took a deep breath, knowing it was a mistake even as the words left her mouth. “All right, but only for a minute.” She’d listen, but she wouldn’t help him—that would cost her too much. She opened the door and they walked in.
Inside, the house was hot and heavy with humidity, but it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as his presence behind her. She set the ceiling fan in motion and watched the wide wooden paddles spin, circulating a gentle breeze.
The